


The Spymaster and the Captain of the Guard

by LymneirianApparition



Series: Chronicles of the Nyssanan [2]
Category: D&D - Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons - Fandom, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Analingus, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Caught, Cheating, Coitus Interruptus, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Creampie, Creampie eating, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Foot Fetish, Half-Elves, Lingerie, Multi, Multiple Creampies, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgy, Pregnant Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Seduction, Threesome - F/M/M, Tieflings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LymneirianApparition/pseuds/LymneirianApparition
Summary: Following the events ofVreetla and the Baroness,Vreetla in her new role as spymaster strives to keep her Ladyship safe. But not all find the Tiefling and former criminal a welcome addition to her Ladyship's court.





	1. Chapter 1

“The budget, you will see, is modest. Relatively speaking.” 

The Tiefling woman, her purple skin magnificently complimented by the suit of gold steel scale mail armor that clung to her body, slid the neatly-scribed parchment across the council table to the baroness. The latter picked it up and studied it carefully before passing it to Urtario. But the young guard captain gave it only the most cursory of inspections before laying into its author. 

“You are suggesting that Baroness Nyssanan bribe her own citizens to report suspicious activity to her? You are saying that this is an optional activity to be undertaken for personal financial incentive rather than a foundational part of their responsibilities to their duly appointed feudal lord?” 

Vreetla the Tiefling began to simmer in her demeanor but her voice remained calm and polite. “As I said, the budget required for the task is quite modest and will better enable us to respond to any machinations from Count Algole along the barony’s southwestern border.” 

“I don’t care if the cost is two coppers or enough gold to fill the hoards of ten dragons. Cost is not the point. The point is you would be paying serfs to do something that is already their responsibility to do.” 

He turned to Baroness Nyssanan whose large, green eyes watched the exchange with neutral concentration. 

“My Lady, if word were to reach the Count that we trust our own peasants so little that we must bribe them to stand watch against him he may take such weakness as incentive to move against us.” 

He then targeted Vreetla with a very intense glare. “No one wants to see our beloved Lady Baroness kidnapped again.” 

Vreetla ignored the barb, but the calm was leaving her voice. “It is not a bribe, it is an incentive. We would be _incentivizing_ the peasants to take an active interest in the protection of their barony rather than having to trust blindly in the barony’s soldiers. If the Count wishes to infiltrate these lands, he has to come through those woods abutting the barony’s southwestern farmlands. Those farmers will see something before anyone else and we need them to understand how vital they are.” 

“You say ‘we’ but with all due respect, you are still a newcomer here, and do not understand the system of obligations that exists between a population and the noble who governs and protects them-“ 

“Enough!” The Baroness’s voice ended the discussion not with volume or anger, but with a firmness of authority that disinclined the hearer to challenge it. “Vreetla, your arguments are well-stated. Captain Urtario, your objections are noted. I will consider the matter and evaluate the financial viability with the treasurer. Personally, I think the idea has some potentially. Especially if Izabel succeeds in her efforts to convert her contacts in the Count’s city of Wyvernrest into agents acting on our behalf.” 

Urtario scoffed. “I still don’t think we should be trusting a streetwalker to set up a spy network in the territory of a man who orchestrated a kidnapping plot so that he could deceive you into marrying him, my Lady.” 

Lydia frowned back at him and raised her eyebrow. “I have told you repeatedly we are not trusting a streetwalker. We are trusting a bard: the daughter of a trained diplomatic envoy who is also a minister in the church of the Empyreal Lord Lymnieris. She grew up in Wyvernrest, she knows the territory, knows the people, and has no love for Count Algole. If you have a better suggestion for who we should use for a such a task I will hear it. But otherwise I am tired of this discussion and will _not_ discuss it with you again. 

“Now, if that is settled, I think we should move on to other business. The declaration of my sorcerous heritage is bound to cause no small stir among the other nobles and I intend to be fully prepared for whatever may arise with them…” \--- 

The violet Tiefling caught up with him in the corridor outside of the conference hall. Urtario had no one to blame but himself, pausing to make sure his sword hung properly on his hip and that not one strand of his almost-black hair was out of place. But appearances were important. He represented the barony, and for that he had to be constantly mindful of every detail pertaining to himself. 

That was why he didn’t dare permit himself recreation in Sammerlynn, the town at the base of the castle, more than once a month. Twice at the most. But these conflicts with the baroness’s new cadre of companions had caused him enough stress that he needed to go tonight and might need to start going more often in general. 

It was while fussing about his appearance and thinking about these things that Vreetla found him. 

“I was concerned there were some ill feelings following that exchange during the meeting. I wanted to see if it was something we needed to discuss.” 

“What would there be to discuss?” he asked, walking on, her keeping up. “You’re the baroness’s favorite. You have her ear. You have your perspective on things and I have mine.” 

“Captain, you said it yourself I’m a newcomer here. But regardless of how close you think I am to her Ladyship I do take my job seriously, and I refuse to have my ability to perform that job compromised because you don’t like me.” 

He stopped and turned to face her yellow-eyed stare. “Like or dislike has nothing to do with it. You’re the Chief Intelligence Officer to the Barony and I’m the Captain of the Castle Guard. We are both sworn to defend these lands from all threats and our personal feelings in that pursuit are simply not relevant.” 

“Chief Intelligence Officer to the Barony. I wish she had come up with a less wordy title. You can just call me ‘spymaster’ as that’s essentially what I am.” 

She gestured to the gilded metal encasing her torso. “Even if this uniform I’ve been issued is hardly inconspicuous.” 

“Call yourself whatever you want,” Urtario huffed. “Or whatever she wants. She stumbled out of the woods with you and your friends, claimed that you saved her life, and she treats you accordingly. That’s fine. I understand that. But I have served this barony my whole life and I will speak out against anything that I see as undermining it.” 

The Tiefling visibly struggled against her combative, demonic nature. It laced the sarcasm in her voice like poison. “Yes, that’s why Izabel is risking her life right now in Wyvernrest, because we are trying to undermine the barony!” 

“Oh yes, again with Izabel,” he retorted. “Daughter of a diplomat. Clergywoman. None of that changes the fact that I am being asked to trust a prostitute that I hardly know.” 

“If she had done for you what she did for the Baroness, Matrax, and myself, you’d trust her with your life, Captain. But since you say your personal feelings are irrelevant, I hope will take me at my word when I tell you that she is an incredible asset. No one here knows the Count’s city like she does.” 

“Are you sure you don’t know it better?” 

Vreetla’s hard expression shifted to wary, if unsurprised. “Is there something you want to accuse me of, Captain?” 

“Of course not. Accusations require proof and I have none. But what I do know – and what I deeply resent – is that there is a great deal about Baroness Nyssanan’s kidnapping that neither she nor you are telling me. And that makes it difficult for me to protect the Baroness, as has been my duty for so long, and difficult for me to know who to trust. 

“You ask me why I don’t like you, Vreetla? It’s impossible for me to like someone that I don’t know, and who hides things from me.” 

He needed to get to Sammerlynn. He couldn’t think anymore; didn’t want to. Urtario spun on his heel and stalked away. “You should celebrate that proposal you made,” he called to Vreetla without looking back. “I’m sure you’ll get your way with it. You usually do.” 

The spymaster, resplendent in her gold scale, stared after him as she stewed. \--- 

Cloaked in the secrecy of the night, Vreetla lay nude upon the Baroness’s great bed and tried to lose herself in the sensations of Lydia caressing her abdomen with her tongue. It felt pleasant, but not invigorating: a rarity for Vreetla. Tonight, it seemed, she just couldn’t get out of her own head and be fully in the intimate moment. 

The Baroness – as attentive a partner as ever there was – stopped and moved up to look at her beloved’s profile in the darkness. Vreetla, with her demonic nocturnal sight, could see her quite clearly and felt awkward at the patient concern she saw writ upon her lover’s face. 

“Alright,” Lydia announced. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“I’m just tired.” 

It was the oldest lie in the book, and saying it felt more like etiquette than a genuine attempt at deflection. 

“Are you worrying about Izabel? She’ll be fine. With her being a Half-Elf she’s been evading the law in Wyvernrest longer than I’ve been alive.” 

Vreetla smiled. “It’s not Izabel. I know she’ll be fine. It’s…” She sighed, having dreaded this conversation all evening. “This whole thing with Urtario can’t go on like it is.” 

“I know he’s set in his ways for someone so young,” Lydia replied, reassuring. “But he just needs to get used to you. Once he gets used to having you around—” 

“It’s not that,” Vreetla said, impatient, but then silent for a long time. “I think we need to tell him the truth about the kidnapping.” 

Now it was Lydia’s turn to be silent for a while. “I haven’t told him because you and Matrax didn’t want me to. You’ve been sure he wouldn’t understand.” 

“Wouldn’t understand that we kidnapped you from this very bedchamber on Count Algole’s orders, then had a change of heart about it? That someone wouldn’t understand that is quite reasonable. Nevertheless, he suspects as much already, and if we keep letting it go, then his imagination is just going to make it worse and worse. Better that we tell him the truth on our own terms.” 

“It would be nice not to have to hide the fact that we’re lovers, too,” Lydia admitted. “All this sneaking around in my own castle is tiresome. We can tell him, Vreetla. You’re right. I think it’s time.” 

”If it were just about me, I’d let him keep wondering.” She reached out in the darkness and stroked Lydia’s cheek. “But I’m trying to think long-term. For us.” 

Lydia took her hand from her cheek and kissed her fingertips. “That means the world to me, Vreetla. I love you. I’m proud of you.” 

Vreetla now turned fully to Lydia and propped herself up on one arm, mirroring the Baroness’s posture. “Well, since we’re sort of on the topic, that’s not the only secret I think we can’t afford to keep anymore. I think you’ve got something you need to tell Matrax.” 

She might not be able to see the green of Lydia’s eyes with her darkvision, but she could see how wide they grew, and she responded to the unasked question. 

“How do I know? Easy. Izabel, Matrax, and I have been with you about six weeks now. And during that time we’ve all four been having sex with each other in one combination or another every single day. Except, of course, for the days when Izabel and I had our periods. But you haven’t gotten yours. And then there’s the fact that I sometimes hear you throwing up in the mornings.” 

Lydia smiled sheepishly and unconsciously placed a hand upon her belly. “Deductive skills like that are why you’re my Spymaster.” 

Vreetla nakedly grinned. “Chief Intelligence Officer to the Barony, if you please.” 

It amused Lydia, but she still dropped her eyes like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I was going to tell you all once Izabel returned.” 

“Why? It’s between you and him.” 

“No, it isn’t. The four of us… I want it to be something more than _passing._ I want it to last.” 

“I do too, Lydia. But there’s also accepting that it might just be for the moment. Four people lasting forever? When has that ever happened?” 

“I don’t know,” the baroness conceded. Her hand swirled upon her belly. “But if it’s going to, it means making you all deeply a part of things. Including me having a baby.” 

Vreetla reclined upon the pillow and looked to the ceiling. “This is another reason why we need to let Urtario in on our secret. You reappear after your kidnapping pregnant and with a man in tow, it won’t take a Spymaster to figure out how that happened.” 

“You think that hasn’t been on my mind?” 

Lydia paused, then resumed less testily. “The bad part about this is we can’t just tell him first thing in the morning, the way I’d like to. He won’t be back until late afternoon at the earliest. He takes exactly one day off a month, most months, and he always spends them down in Sammerlynn. I’ve always wondered what he does down there?” 

Vreetla shrugged. “Drink? Whore? The things men usually do on a night off.” 

“Urtario? Please. I’ve never seen him drink anything stronger than tea. And as for whoring? Well frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s a virgin. He certainly acts enough like one.” 

That amused Vreetla enough that she left her dark headspace behind almost immediately. “You may be right.” After a few long moments in silence, she hesitantly added. “I want him to like me. It was kind of you to give me a formal position, but I feel like an imposter at it and he is sure that I am. I hate feeling like I have something to prove to someone. And I hate admitting that I want that someone to like me, but there it is.” 

“Why Vreetla,” Lydia teased. “Are you thinking of taking his virginity?” 

“What? No. Why would you say that?” 

“Because your nipples got hard when you were talking about him just now.” 

“It’s cold,” Vreetla protested, a little too quickly. It was the second oldest lie in the book, and the room was quite pleasant. 

“It has nothing to do with him,” she continued to protest as Lydia crept toward her. “How can you even tell what my nipples are doing anyway?” 

“I’ll never see in the dark as well as you do, Vreetla,” Lydia replied with a mischievous smirk. “But the things that matter, I see well enough.” 

Then her tongue slid in a circle upon the areole of Vreetla’s left breast and all thoughts of telling anyone anything floated away. \--- 

Yness was twenty-eight and the proprietress of the Spinning Dragon: not the best or most well-known alehouse in Sammerlynn, but it did a respectable business. A towering, strawberry-blonde beauty, she always just laughed when asked why she did not have a husband. Urtario never asked it, for asking too much might spoil the arrangement they had in which she led him into the back storeroom and let him bend her over a table there one night each month. 

He probably could have come and done it every night, but that would make it less special. Not that he thought it was all that special to her. Yness was not some prostitute, charging for the privilege, and she claimed he was the only one she did this with. Urtario felt he knew better than to believe it. But promiscuity carried more than one risk, and her enduring lack of disease gave weight to the truth of her tale. Besides, she was kind and companionable, warm and willing; and not far enough beneath his station for him not to consider marrying. Yet he held back, which he knew to be all the more unfair to her because she seemed willing to wait. 

Perhaps he simply didn’t want her forever. But he wanted her well enough right now. It was probably not healthy to only give vent to his male needs one night each month. But he had duties; was needed elsewhere. His rank and responsibilities were his bride. 

But cheating on his bride one night a month did feel good. Yness had gotten so turned on for their meeting that his balls now made wetly audible slaps with every deep thrust he made into her body. It had been maddening waiting for business to die down enough for them to sneak back here and do as they pleased. But it had been pleasing watching the other men in the room want what they did not know only he would have. 

Yness’s body was challengingly tight, making it difficult to last, and she made no secret about how she refused to go easy on him. But the only way for him to last longer would be for him to stop thrusting and that was simply not an option. 

Her right ass check bore a detailed tattoo of a butterfly. Urtario had once asked her if it meant she was a follower of the Desnan faith to whom butterflies were sacred. Yness had only laughed the same way she did if you asked her why she wasn’t married. 

Yness might enjoy making it difficult for him to last, but she often came quickly too, and tonight was no exception. But knowing he had gotten her off made it no easier for him to control himself either. Why did it have to end so quickly? When it ended, he had to go back: back to his duties and to those who made a mockery of them. Namely that demonspawn witch, Vreetla. With her skin, smooth and purple as a ripe plum and probably twice as sweet; and her silver hair that shone like moonlight through rain; or her little horns, like tiny outcroppings of delightful sin that coursed inside her; or her hips that begged to be held onto; or her feet, which he had never seen, but which he had absolute faith were perfect for sucking the sweat off of just the same... 

Urtario always pulled out in plenty of time, because cumming inside a woman was just never worth the risk no matter what herbs she took. He nearly didn’t make it this time, though. It was such a close call that he splashed the outside of her pussy as he withdrew, but the rest landed safely upon her buttocks. White rain upon butterfly wings. But the pleasure soured quickly; and not because of what a close call it was. 

It was bad enough the Spymaster stymied his ability to protect his baroness. Now could he really not even have a meaningless recreational fuck without Vreetla ruining it? 

Yness straightened up, just letting her long skirt fall and hide her moistened flesh. She turned and must have saw how troubled Urtario looked. 

“Are you okay?” 

He could only nod, but he held her hands, not wanting her to leave. He usually spent the night at an inn two blocks down, but he was overcome by a wild, fleeting urge to ask her that he be allowed to stay with her. To share her bed properly and keep those thoughts away. Yet he said nothing. 

“I need to go back to work now,” Yness said gently, slowly pulling her hands away. 

Urtario muttered his goodbyes, saw himself out, and rented a bed alone. Sleep came easily, but not without anger. \--- 

For her personal quarters Vreetla had requested two storerooms at the end of a second floor hallway. It hadn’t made sense, given that the woman had arrived owning little more than knives and the clothes on her back. 

That was the problem with vagabonds. You give them something, and they become drunk on the luxury: greedy for it. Now two rooms that had quite sensibly housed ammunition and parts for the ballistae located on the ramparts had been converted for the private comfort of the Chief Intelligence Officer to the Barony. A spider’s nest for a sleek, purple predator to plot how she would usurp and betray. 

She had usurped Urtario, alright. Right down to the point where everyone just forgot that he carried a castellan’s key. He could unlock any door any time he wished. 

He had awakened in his room at the inn with a head much clearer and knowing what needed to be done. The first thing he had done upon returning to the castle was to make sure no word was sent that he had returned. The second was to make sure that one of his most trusted men ran interference, keeping both Vreetla and that oafish lackey of hers, Matrax, occupied and far from her quarters. 

The corridor was empty. It was now or never. But if he were caught at this, or he were wrong it would be the end of him. Baroness Nyssanan would punish him. But he did this for her, as he did all things for her, and as he had for her husband before her. He put the key in the lock and turned it. 

The room he chose to enter was Vreetla’s bedchamber. He didn’t know what she used the other room for, but he would search it if the main room yielded nothing. He had a feeling it wouldn’t, though. A vain, scheming creature like this Tiefling would want to keep the tools and evidence of her evil close to where she laid her horned head. 

Urtario slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. Afternoon light provided the former storeroom with comfortable illumination. He knew the Baroness had been generous with the allowance she had given her new cadre for furnishings but was almost disappointed to find that the Tiefling woman’s sanctum was not a shrine to excess. The furnishings she had selected were comfortable but not decadent; neither spartan nor sybaritic. The four-post bed with its comfortable furs were certainly nice, but not out of keeping with the rest of the castle, and the writing desk, vanity, and nightstand were beautifully carved, but not of an expensive, luxuriant breed of wood. 

He had to admit, the place suited her, though. What he knew of her, anyway. Attractive and feminine, yet stark and vaguely militaristic. It smelled like her, too. Vreetla did not wear perfume, but her presence carried a subtle sent, like dew in a place of cool shadows where sunlight illuminated, but never directly hit… 

Urtario’s jaw clenched. Such places did nothing but breed mildew and rot! Exactly what he would surely find here if he but took the time to look. 

He looked inside her wardrobe. Her smell was strongest there, as he suspected it to be. Nothing but black shirts and trousers. Not one single dress or skirt like a proper woman should wear. It didn’t surprise him. He moved on. 

It didn’t seem likely she would place something damning in the drawer of her bedside tablet. But a quick look there just to rule the spot out did yield something intriguing indeed. Next to a roll of brown paper and a roll of twine he found a modest-sized brown book with a gold leaf cover. The title stamped thereon was in some menacing language, but bore a translation into the common tongue: _Seven Nectars of the Abyss and Other Pleasures: A Theoretical Journey._

Urtario opened the cover, bracing himself for what he might find. The blank, white first page bore an inscription in Vreetla’s own flowing hand. 

_My Gorgeous One,_

_I found that vendor that you and Izabel visited. I couldn’t believe she had a copy of this wonderful book. I’ve looked for a copy for years! But once I had it, I had to share it. I make it yours, with the hope that some of the adventures within will be ours. I think you’ll know the ones I mean! I treasure these stories, but I treasure you more. Here is to us discovering new treasures together!_

_Yours,_

_-V_

A lover? Who could that be? Urtario had assumed from the start that Vreetla and Matrax were rutting, but he could hardly imagine her or any woman calling that big, awkward moron “gorgeous one.” He didn’t want to think who it might be. There were places he would not allow his mind to go. He began to leaf through the book. 

The dense text was broken up regularly by black-and-white engravings and full-color plates depicting fanciful scenes of some kind of beautiful princess encountering increasingly bestial and demonic men and women and copulating with them in increasingly repellant ways. Men copulated with other men; women with women. At one point the heroine appeared to be the guest of honor at an orgy consisting of hundreds of animal-headed humans. 

Sick blasphemy! Urtario did not consider himself overly religious but he knew this tome to be an affront to all the gods that goodly people worshipped. But it just looked like pornography. He didn’t know enough about the occult to know if there were any dark spells or rituals hidden among the graphic content, and possessing pornography did not make someone an enemy agent. He put it back in the drawer. He knew exactly what he needed to prove and there must be evidence of it here somewhere. There _must_ be. 

But he lingered, looking at that drawer, unable to stop thinking of the book contained therein and the images inside. Who was it for? It couldn’t be… No, surely not. 

Supple fingers like coiled steel gripped the collar of his tunic and spun him, a whip-strong arm slamming him up against the wall. Vreetla laid a dagger at the hollow of his throat. 

“What are you doing in my room, Captain?” Her voice was menacingly calm. 

The door to the other room was slightly ajar. Somehow, she had opened it and entered without him hearing. He looked down. Her feet were bare. She had undoubtedly removed her boots before entering to ensure she made no sound. 

It was as he had suspected and feared that it would be: she had the most beautiful feet he had ever seen on a woman, purple skin or no. 

She jerked him by the collar, slamming him against the wall again. “Don’t look at my _feet,_ look at _me!_ What are you doing in my room?” 

“Kill me,” Urtario challenged. “It will prove that I’m right about you!” 

“Right about what? That I’ll defend myself against someone I find stalking me where I sleep? I think that would make you right about most people, then!” 

“Don’t be coy, not with me!” he asserted, grateful to finally speak from his heart, even with a poniard at his throat. “I know you were behind the kidnapping! You were here that night! I _saw_ you! 

“I am aware that sometimes when people are held against their will they come to develop a certain affinity for their captors; come to perceive them as friends. That must have happened to Lydia, somehow, and now you’re using it to your advantage! Maybe you never even stopped working for Count Algole, and he sent you here to undermine us from within! Maybe that’s why you want gold to pay the farmers at the border, so you can seduce them the way you’ve seduced her!” 

Her eyes narrowed in red-rimmed Tiefling anger. “What do you mean ‘seduced her?’ What is it that you think you know?” 

“That you’re taking advantage of her!” he challenged. “Lydia is a good person and people like you prey on that. Maybe you’ve made her think you’re a good person too, but you’re not! But I am sworn to protect her, and I will _stop_ you! I won’t _let_ you!” 

Vreetla’s mask of rage softened to awed surprise. Her dagger faltered from his throat ever so slightly. “You’re jealous. It’s not about duty or Count Algole. I have something with her that you want and you’re jealous!” 

He would not hear that! Taking advantage of the relaxation of her blade, he twisted away from her, tried to overpower her and reverse their positions. But in trying to fling her against the wall, he allowed her to use his own greater size and momentum against him. The nimble Tiefling made herself a fulcrum, spinning him into the edge of the bed and off balance. The next thing Urtario knew, he was on his back looking up at the canopy. Then Vreetla’s weight was upon him, straddling his waist, her blade once again pointing into the hollow of his throat. Her leg pinned his sword against his thigh. He was at her mercy. 

The exertion left them both gasping. “I don’t want things to be like this,” she huffed. 

“This is how things _are._ You made them be like this. Things were fine here before you came!” 

“No, they weren’t!” she challenged. “She was unhappy, and she had been unhappy for a long time! _I_ was unhappy and had been all my life! What about you? Were you happy?” 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s never mattered.” 

“It could matter now, if you’d let it.” 

“I can’t! My duty is to protect her. Her duty is to marry again and have heirs for the good of her family, her people! None of us get what we want, and none of us should want what we can’t have.” 

Vreetla smiled and flexed her thighs against his body. “Is that so?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why does your cock feel as hard as a brick against my pussy?” 

“That… That’s not about you!” 

It wasn’t! She had her pelvis pressing down on him with his member sandwiched in between. Blood had gotten trapped there. He didn’t want her that way. It had nothing to do with her hands on him, or her feet against his legs, or her pelvis pressing so hard upon him, forcing him to rise hard in return. 

“Uh-huh,” she said, not buying any of it. She took the dagger away from his throat and rammed it back into the sheath at her side. Then she placed her hands upon his chest and began to rock slowly back and forth upon his erection. 

“So if I do this, the way your cock responds won’t be about me? If you cum in your pants, it won’t be about me? 

“I’m not going to cum in my pants,” he muttered as he began to buck his own hips in time with her own. 

“Where would you like to cum, then?” 

He didn’t answer. There were too many answers, and all were wrong because this was wrong. But he wanted it anyway, and she gave him no choice but to accept that. 

“Here. I’ll make it easy for you.” 

Vreetla stopped dry humping him. She reached down and with the slowness of a skilled courtesan, pulled his belt undone. He had every opportunity to resist or decline. They both knew he wouldn’t, but it was a formal ritual that seemed so necessary and the way it escalated the anticipation was marvelous. 

She tugged at the waist of his trousers and he lifted his hips so she could pull them down, an active accomplice now. Once she completed that task she wasted no time, just picked up his cock and put her mouth around the head, looking him in the eyes as she moved her mouth up and down upon him. 

It had only been sixteen hours since Urtario had been with a woman, but his body responded to her mouth like it had been years. He found himself unduly sensitive, writhing and gasping at the gentlest stimulation of her tongue. Vreetla took especial pride in this and switched to very delicate maneuvers using only the tip of her tongue upon his rock-hard, throbbing flesh. It was so different from blowing Matrax whom she could do pretty much anything she wanted to, and he could take it right up until the moment where he couldn’t. With Urtario it seemed like there wasn’t a safe place for her tongue to go that wouldn’t leave him on the verge of crying out. 

So naturally, she just went everywhere. 

She played with him that way for a very long time. He lacked the courage, it seemed, to touch her with his hands; fearing that the spell might be broken and the whole experience vanish if he dared interact with it too much. That amused Vreetla, but she understood the sentiment. The man had not let himself enjoy anything for so long, that enjoyment itself had become a scary thing. 

She could have played with him for a lot longer, teasing with the painterly strokes of her tongue, but she grew eager to claim the victory of making him release. So gripping him at the base, she began forcefully pistoning her mouth up and down, stroking backward with her long tongue at the apex of each thrust. Perhaps it was some trick of her Tiefling physiology that enabled it, but every man she had ever done it to said that no other woman had. And no man she had done it to had ever been able to withstand it. Urtario was no exception. In seconds hot bolts of jism were filling up her mouth. 

Vreetla hung on like gorgeous parasite, giving the tip of his manhood one last good, hard suck to ensure that no trace of seed or animosity either one remained within him. She rose up, making sure he could see that her mouth was full, and swallowed so that he could see her swallow. She ran her the back of her hand across her mouth just to make sure nothing had escaped. It hadn’t, because of course it hadn’t. It never did unless she wanted it to. But as with thieving, battle, or spymastery, it was always best to be thorough. 

In the wake of this whole turn events, it seemed difficult to resume the conversation. But kneeling beside him, barefoot on her bed, Vreetla seemed confident and poised, and Urtario admired her in a way that had nothing to do with sexual attraction and in spite of any suspicions that still remained. 

“I did kidnap Lydia,” she said. “Count Algole hired me to. Then a lot of things happened. Lydia and I fought alongside each other, bled for each other, saved each other’s lives. Now I am here. Because she asked me to be. I am not here to harm her, if that is what you think.” 

“I don’t know what to think anymore.” 

She nodded. “I suppose that’s fair. But if we are to serve Lydia the way she wants us to, then I need you to at least act like you believe me.” 

“I promise nothing. But I will try.” 

“Good. Now cover yourself and get out of my room.” 

As he stood buttoning up his trousers – modestly, with his back to her, of course – she said to him, “The blowjob was because I like you. Enter my room without my permission again, and that won’t be what you get. Do you understand?” 

Urtario nodded gravely. “I understand.” 

He paused as he reached for the doorknob. “Can I… See you again?” 

Asking it took a lot of nerve, and he expected her to tell him so. But instead she told him, “It depends.” 

“On what?” 

“On Matrax. Now leave me, please.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vreetla's issues with Urtario force her to reevaluate the other relationships in her life and to take drastic action.

Lydia tapered off pouring as the wine reached the top of Vreetla’s goblet. “Well,” she said. “Surely you knew he wasn’t going to take it well. Matrax’s feelings for you run quite deep. Throwing another man into the mix never struck me as something he’d be into.” 

Vreetla had come straight to Lydia following a lengthy and occasionally quite heated discussion with Matrax regarding her encounter with Urtario in her bedroom. So far, the baroness had seemed more concerned about the health of Vreetla and Matrax’s relationship than she did about the fact that her guard captain’s phallus had been in her spymaster’s mouth. 

“That’s hypocritical, though,” Vreetla complained before downing half the goblet in one swig. “I’m tired of his smug attitude during these past weeks. He acts like you, me, and Izabel are his harem. He doesn’t need my permission when he’s with one of you. I shouldn’t need his permission with another man.” 

“Did you tell him that?” 

“Yes. And I told him that we are not his harem. If anything, me, him, and Izabel are yours!” 

Lydia laughed, incredulous. “I don’t think of it that way. Not at all.” 

“Of course you don’t. But this is your home and you let us live here. If you ever need to pull rank on us, there it is. 

“I’m keenly aware of that. But regardless of whether Matrax has a sense of entitlement or not, he does have legitimate grounds to feel angry with you. You were intimate with someone else without his permission or foreknowledge. It doesn’t matter if you’re exclusive with one person or three, it’s still cheating if you go outside the bond. I have just as much right to be angry as he does.” 

Vreetla downed the rest of her wine, thinking she was about to need it. “Are you?” 

“That’s the thing. I feel like I should be. Ever since you came in here and told me I’ve been bracing myself for it to happen. But I’m just not. I understand why Matrax is, but I’m not.” 

Vreetla didn’t bother asking her to pass the bottle, just took it and refilled her cup. “Well let’s turn your logic around. He’s mad because it was another man. What if it had been another woman? If I were with another woman and didn’t tell you?” 

Lydia thought only for a moment. “No. I know where your heart is. If I felt like your heart were drifting away from me, then yes. But if you just saw a girl you fancied and decided to have fun with her, then no. I might be a little mad that you didn’t _invite_ me. But not over the fact that it happened. 

“Of course, it’s also possible that I’m not angry over this because I saw it coming. Urtario has had this awkward, confused crush on you since the first time I introduced you. But let’s look at it another way, Vreetla. Would you be jealous if I were to be with someone, male or female, from outside the group and didn’t tell you?” 

Vreetla searched her feelings before she answered and didn’t like what she found. 

“Yes.” She ran her hands up her horns and through her white hair. _“Fuck!”_

As she slumped with her head in her hands, the wine starting to take serious effect, she felt Lydia’s hand between her shoulder blades. 

“It’s okay, Vreetla. It’s not like there’s a written list of rules for what we’re doing. It’s okay for us to all be in different places with it. We just have to help each other figure it out.” 

“Matrax is still mad. He said he forgave me, but he’s still hurt. And there’s Urtario… I’ve ruined everything.” 

“You haven’t,” Lydia said, filled with compassion. “It’s just something for us to work through.” 

She paused, then added. “But maybe work through it with Matrax sooner rather than later. I do still have something I need to tell him too, after all.” 

“I hope he still thinks we’re worth it at the end,” Vreetla muttered, not entirely joking. 

“He will. At least with you, I already know he will.” 

Vreetla raised her gold eyes to Lydia’s green ones. “How can you be sure?” 

Lydia reached out and Vreetla let herself love the feeling of her fingers upon her face. “You’re the most irresistible woman I’ve ever met, Vreetla. I know you’ll think of something that will make him crazier with desire for you than ever.” 

\--- 

Vreetla was losing herself in Matrax’s kisses. Not many men in her life had wanted to just kiss her. Others had always been impatient to get to other things and she, in her anger, had pushed it along rapidly to where they had wanted it. It wasn’t like that with Mat, and she had been a reckless, despicable fool to ever endanger that. 

If anything, she was the impatient one. She had already bared her breasts for him and ached for him to touch them. But he instead ran his hand all over her back and shoulders, embracing her; loving her. She knew he wasn’t being a tease, and for him she would be as patient as she had to. 

They were on her bed. It had taken a lot of talking to get there, but it was worth it to be here with him again. Coming back to him felt good: felt _right._ And he was so, so generous to allow it. But he had taken her wants and desires to heart, and here they were. 

Finally his hands moved around to her front as she leaned over him, and his strong, calloused grip stimulated the sensitive tissue of her breasts to the utmost. 

“I still can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he murmured. “To touch you like this.” 

“I want you to,” she replied, between more kisses. “I always want you to.” 

“Even when?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Even when.” 

“Prove it.” 

He then nodded over her shoulder to where Urtario sat at the foot of the bed, watching and longing. 

Vreetla made herself forget about Matrax’s hands (it was not easy,) and turned and crawled to where her new lover patiently waited. 

She did not waste time on words. Urtario’s strong point was not talking anyway. She put her hand upon his dark hair, looked into his clear, blue eyes, and drew him to her mouth. Strange to be kissing him for the first time. Even stranger to have Matrax watching. But Urtario took to it readily enough, as if watching her with the other man was enough to make him forget his presence altogether and give in to his own need that had grown to overwhelm him. Urtario certainly did not hesitate to put his hands upon her breasts. Quick and furtive, as if unsure if the privilege would soon be taken away. 

Every kiss was an exploration of something new. It was not like kissing Mat, or Lydia or Izabel for that matter. Was this what she had missed with her mistrust of kissing? That with every person the adventure was new? 

Urtario had abandoned his mistrust of her to the adventure of it. For now, at least. She could certainly do the same. And if his touch was quick, at least it was precise. Just like his swordsmanship. He and Matrax had that much in common, though she deemed now to not be the best time to say it. 

Speaking of Matrax, she felt him moving on the mattress behind her. His arms slid between her and Urtario and unfastened her belt. Obedient in a way she simply wasn’t when with a man one on one, she got on her hands and knees and assisted him as he tugged her trousers off, leaving her nude and vulnerable between the two of them. Meanwhile, Urtario had stood up and exposed his erect phallus to her as if it were assumed she would do something. 

The man’s audacity knew no bounds. He was lucky that she liked him. With her gold eyes, she looked up and let him know it even as her lips encircled the engorged head of his thick cock. 

Both he and Matrax had thick cocks, come to think of it. She had chosen well. 

Matrax was getting undressed behind her. He seemed to not be in a hurry, and Vreetla hoped it was because he liked watching her suck the other man. 

But before Urtario could get too comfortable with Vreetla’s mouth moving up and down his shaft, Matrax seized her from behind and pulled her away, a strand of saliva connecting her and Urtario for a moment as she toppled backward and wound up sitting with Matrax behind her, his erect cock standing up against her lower spine. 

She looked back at him, questioning. She had been having fun sucking the guard captain’s cock, after all. He nodded toward her lap as though it explained everything, then placed his hands on her inner thighs and spread her legs open, exposing her freshly-shaven snatch to Urtario’s hungry eyes. With two fingers he spread Vreetla’s damson-hued pussy lips to expose the pinkness inside. To Urtario he said, “Now you do it. To her.” 

Urtario finished undressing, not taking his eyes off the feast that awaited him. Vreetla slid down a little to meet him as he crawled to meet her and relaxed into the feeling of his mouth against her nethers for the first time. She had the amusing, simultaneous thoughts that his goatee tickled and that it was going to get very sticky. This whole experience was arousing her so much that she knew damn well how wet she already was and it was only going to get worse from there. 

Shaving was so much work, but it was worth it. Being smooth like this made oral so much better. And what Urtario lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. Then again, perhaps she had been spoiled recently by Mat, Izabel, and Lydia, who were all patient givers when it came to eating her out. Urtario was kind of all over the place, but he radiated pure excitement. Clearly he had been thinking about this for a long time. Just as with merely touching her, perhaps he felt he must revel in it quickly for fear that I would be taken away. 

Matrax watched in silence, seeming content for a while to serve as the throne which she was pleasured upon. But then his strong, uncompromising hands found her breasts again and began to squeeze them in slow, gentle circles; and then, a little faster. 

Vreetla had been no stranger lately to two or more people focusing on her at once. But this was different. The _energy_ was different. She could feel the tension between the two men: that slight jealous tension forming the web that bound her subtly, but with formidable strength. It was a little bit frightening, and Vreetla felt less dominant in the situation than ever. And that uncertainty made it exciting. Lately she had been discovering that it was possible for her to achieve sexual release without being in absolute control of every facet of the encounter. But two men working together even as each coveted her solely for himself was getting her there even faster than normal. 

She doubted either of them would want to hear it, but they were a very good team. 

But just when she thought she had their tricks all figured out, Urtario took the surprising turn of slipping down and deliberately slathering his tongue upon her asshole. She thrashed so hard that Matrax nearly lost his grip on her globes, and she cried out, _“You dirty fucker!”_

“What is he doing?” Matrax asked, confused. 

“Licking my asshole like the dirty fucker that he is!” the hapless Veetra exclaimed. 

Of course, Vreetla herself was typically willing to lick any partner’s asshole as long as she knew it was clean. But she saw no need to let Urtario know that about her, yet. 

The erstwhile guard captain seemed pleased with himself at the little bit of mayhem he had caused and returned to licking upward on her clit in rapid, rhythmic strokes. Just her luck that now, when she was already so stimulated by the surprise attack, that he would _really_ start getting the hang of it! 

Vreetla had just settled down and Matrax had gotten a steady rhythm resumed when she started thrashing again, cumming against Urtario’s worshipful mouth. She screamed to the canopy of her bed, not caring if anyone heard. Urtario kept up what he had done to start the chain of orgasms, then respectfully drew away as soon as he could tell she was spent. Vreetla lay there between the two men, trying to recover her strength. For she might be spent, but they most certainly were not, and as men they would require their due. 

She _wanted_ to give them their due. 

Rousing herself from lethargy, Vreetla rolled over onto her stomach and Matrax’s achingly hard cock slipped into her mouth practically of its own volition. She began to devotedly fellate his thickness in reward for being such a good partner, so understanding of her expanding and voracious needs. But running her tongue down his shaft to his plump balls and back to the tip again she could see that she had been very greedy. With him hard and responsive in her mouth she could see quite clearly that his was all the cock she needed. And Matrax saw fit to remind her that it was so. He took her by her horns and used them as handles to control her while he took over and fucked her mouth. 

He had never done that before. 

But for all that Matrax might truly be the only man that she needed, there was still another man to be had. Urtario put his hands upon her round buttocks and his tongue right between them once again. The prim, fussy guard captain seemed not to be able to get enough of eating her ass. It figured. The prim, fussy ones were always the ones with some weird kink. Vreetla tried to scream at the delightful sensation of it and call him a dirty fucker again. But it was quite difficult with Matrax’s cock in the back of her throat. 

There was no doubt about it. Matrax was enjoying making her service him. He seemed in no hurry to cum, and Urtario was so damned persistent in his analingus, with every flutter of his tongue on her most taboo opening making her want more of the same. She got back up on her knees, offering her bottom to him more fully. 

In moments like these she was glad that she did not have a tail like so many Tieflings did. It would have only gotten in the way. 

But Matrax thoroughly misread her gesture. “Looks like she’s ready for you,” he groused at the guard captain. “Go on. Give it to her.” 

Vreetla didn’t know if she had recovered from her orgasms yet, but it was too late. She felt her vaginal walls expand as Urtario’s thickness pushed inside her. 

_“Mmmmm!”_

was all she could say with her mouth sealed around the base of Matrax’s cock as it was. But Urtario quickly frustrated her. His balls slapped against her wetness with slow, tentative thrusts. He did not give her the pounding that she needed.

“What do you call that?” Matrax jeered. “I don’t think she can even feel you. Fuck her so that she’ll remember it.” 

Urtario angrily sped up in response to Matrax’s taunts. Vreetla found herself now getting fucked as fast and hard as she ever had. She was definitely still too sensitive, but not so much that she thought of asking him to stop. She now found herself fucked hard, her buttocks gripped so hard she feared they would bruise, and her mouth made to please her lover’s cock, with no input on her part as to how it was used. This was definitely as far as she could get from being in control. 

And definitely something she would want to try again. 

Matrax seemed almost telepathic in his perceptions today. “You like this, you little slut? You like getting fucked like a whore who needs two cocks?” 

He had never called her names like slut and whore before. Not that it bothered her. She had told him more than once that she felt like she did all the nasty talking and wouldn’t mind if he joined in too. He seemed almost shy about doing so. Funny, that what it took to make it happen was the threat of another man making her feel good. 

Jealousy was a fascinating tool if you used it correctly. 

Without warning, he pushed Vreetla away, more streams of saliva clinging as her mouth was left cock-less. “Get on your back,” he ordered. “I want to see him go really deep in you.” 

Vreetla flipped over and Urtario dutifully penetrated her while she pulled her legs up high to maximize the depth and to give Matrax the best view. 

_“Yes,”_ he whispered lasciviously as he stared at his rival’s cock fucking deeply in and out of the woman he loved. _“Yes.”_

Vreetla couldn’t stop looking at Urtario’s intense blue eyes, on fire with lust for her. But her hand found Matrax’s cock and she began to jerk him off to remind him that he was her favorite, and he took to alternating between kissing her and staring in fascination at Urtario’s surging cock as it swelled in and out of her pussy. 

But Urtario fucking her like this, it let the glans of his penis target the special spot within her each time he surged toward her cervix. Another orgasm was building within her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Matrax knew it too, and he made it coincide with his most lecherous demand so far. 

“Milk him,” he urged. “Make him cum inside.” 

Vreetla knew what he meant. She had a particular talent for tightening her inner muscles. It was something she practiced at. She made her walls quiver around the guard captain’s relentless cock and the sudden look in his eyes told her that she had set him on the path toward something he couldn’t stop either. Vreetla repositioned her legs and wrapped them tightly around him just in case he got any funny ideas about pulling out. 

Urtario had only came inside a woman once before. It was when he was quite young and couldn’t control himself. The two weeks of waiting before the girl finally get her period had been the most nerve-wracking of his life and now, he fastidiously shot anywhere but inside a woman’s heavenly depths. But Vreetla was dangerous for him. Two nights ago, with Yness he had thought about her and barely pulled out in time. Now that he was actually with her, there was absolutely no thought of pulling out at all. Now his cock pumped again and again, filling her unholy womb with every last drop of seed his testicles had to give her. He cried out in pleasured triumph with each squirt and her own cries of orgasm rose to meet him as her wicked pussy spasmed all around his spasming cock. 

In the moments afterward with their flesh still connected, they looked at and touched one another as affection naturally grew between. But then Vreetla remembered what Lydia had said about how if she drew away in her heart, that would be where problems would lie. She gave Urtario a companionable nudge and he chivalrously – if reluctantly – withdrew from her and slid off to the side. 

Then suddenly Matrax was on top of her, looking absolutely famished for her. The swollen glans of his cock lined up with the flooded opening of the wet, creamy mess that was her pussy. 

“Mat, really? He just…” 

_“I know!_

Vreetla felt Urtario’s sperm squish out on all sides of Matrax’s cock as he pushed into her. Vreetla literally had to clutch the bedding just to stay more or less in one place as he fucked her with more aggression and naked, emotional need than he ever had before. He was taking her back: _reclaiming_ her, even as though he had wanted to see her pulled away from his grasp. But it was not sustainable. He was gasping and exclaiming with almost every thrust, unable to cope with sensations amplified by the uncanny lube that was his rival’s seed. 

_“Matrax!”_

she screamed, with her eyes shut tight against her raw longing for him, and with one last growl of love and anger, he rammed inward to the utmost depth and combined Urtario’s seed with his own, filling her with more than she could take and leaving her feeling like the most used and most loved woman to have ever walked the planet.

Matrax pulled out reluctantly, and only after a very long time of staring at her in silence, the rift between them mended by the catharsis of their loving – if ungentle – union. Vreetla was left with the welcome, if voluminous, predicament of two portions of seed overfilling her womb, but Matrax was left with the embarrassing predicament of every square centimeter of his member thickly coated in another man’s jism. Vreetla did what he needed of her and sucked him clean. And then after that it was only polite to suck Urtario clean too. 

Vreetla lying there in a spreading pool of cum, two loads of the stuff leaking out of her pussy, and two cocks in her mouth was what Izabel saw when she walked in the bedroom door. 

“Well!” the Half-Elf bard exclaimed as she set her bags down. “I can see I’ve missed a lot since I’ve been away. Captain.” 

She nodded in acknowledgement toward Urtario as if seeing him naked with a half-mast erection pointed at a woman’s mouth were an everyday occurrence. 

“Izabel!” Vreetla exclaimed wide-eyed, the men momentarily forgotten. “You’re okay! We’ve been so worried!” 

“Yes, I’m fine. I have so much to tell you all. I reported to Lydia and then I thought I would come straight here and surprise you and Mat, maybe see if either of you were up for a little fun. I’ve been deprived. But by the looks of things I’d say I just missed the fun.” 

“No, no, I think we can probably have more fun. Can’t we, boys?” 

“Gods, how many people are you all fucking?” Urtario asked, amazed. 

“Well, Captain, I was until quite recently a professional prostitute. So believe it or not, I’m currently at an all-time low,” Izabel said, wryly. Since her arrival at the Baroness’s court she had been wearing the modest dresses of a lady-in-waiting that Lydia had commissioned for her. For her travels, however, she had switched back to her preferred clothing of a bodice and scandalous briefs, garter belt, and stockings accentuated by an open-fronted train cinched about her waist. Watching her remove those documents, one could easily think she was undressing as anyone would after getting home from a long journey and not as someone getting ready to turn a threesome into a foursome. 

“It really is good to see you, Izabel,” Vreetla continued. “I’m sorry for not getting up. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a mess right now.” 

“I can see that,” Izabel exclaimed after doffing her bodice. She lifted her bouncy tits for a moment to let them air out underneath. Then with forked fingers she pointed at the two men at once. “Did they… both?” 

Vreetla blushed, her purple cheeks burning deep red. “Yes.” 

“Wow. Not only did I miss out, but clearly there is a story here as well. Would you like a cleanup?” 

“That would be wonderful. But I hope you’re hungry. There’s a lot.” 

Izabel snapped off her garters and flung them aside before slipping out her briefs, revealing her cinnamon-colored bush. Then, she slunk onto the foot of the bed. 

“I’ve been traveling all day. I’m absolutely _starving._ ” 

So Vreetla carefully lifted herself out of the wet spot and got on her hands and knees again, struggling to hold the milky payload of seed within her quivering depths. “Oh my, Vreetla,” Izabel exclaimed as she got underneath her on her back and got a good look at what she was dealing with. “What did they _do_ to you?” 

Matrax could not help but take pride in his accomplishments. “What didn’t we do?” 

“I hope you’re ready, Izabel,” Vreetla warned. “I can’t hold it in much longer.” 

“Oh yes,” the pale redhead affirmed with a wicked grin. “Let me have it!” 

Vreetla relaxed her pelvic muscles and everything she had managed to hold in resumed leaking out. A viscous mixture of syrupy seed slid from Vreetla’s flexing pussy, adding an extra glaze of white to Izabel’s clean, white teeth. 

“Delightful,” the ex-prostitute proclaimed after swallowing this initial taste down. “I don’t know what the captain tastes like on his own, but he tastes delightful mixed with you, Matrax.” 

“He’s delightful on his own, too, I assure you,” Lydia supplied. “I’m going to sit on your face now.” 

“Before you do, Matrax, can I get the usual?” Izabel opened her legs in suggestion just as Vreetla’s pubic mound made contact with her mouth. 

“She likes to be serviced while she does this,” Matrax explained to Urtario, right before burying his face in Izabel’s bush and settling in for dinner with his favorite redhead. 

Urtario watched, amazed. It felt like he was watching some beautifully profane religious ritual, the way these three gave to one another. He wanted to ask them where they got their stamina. How could Vreetla and Matrax want to just keep going after all that? Whatever the secret was, it appeared to be contagious. Arousal was beginning to take hold of him again, and it was getting harder and harder to just watch. Especially with the two women becoming vocal in response to the cunnilingus they both received. 

But then the other door into the room opened and there was Lydia. The baroness to whom he had sworn his life and served as loyally as he ever had her husband stood there, seeing him naked and aroused on the sideline of an orgy. But it was not shame at her seeing him that left him speechless, but what he saw of her. 

The baroness wore a black robe of a black gown that was almost completely sheer, showing him the curves of her body, and all the skin of her that he had never actually seen. The see-through fabric tented against her erect left nipple, visible for how the robe already hung halfway off her shoulder. Like Vreetla, she too had shaved her pubis, but had left a thin, enticing strip of chestnut hair pointing the way to the beginning of the cleft below. 

Upon seeing her his penis sprung fully erect like the firing of a catapult. She saw it, and there was no way he could pretend that his lust was not for her. Izabel, meanwhile, snuck a peak at the newcomer. 

“Oh, there you are, Lydia.” 

“I told you I needed to go change.” 

“We’d have waited for you, but when I got here this was already happening.” 

She shut the door behind her, let her robe drop to the floor, and took on a playful scolding tone. “Vreetla, I knew you’d get creative solving things with the boys but you did not tell me that this was what you intended to do.” 

“Sorry!” Vreetla said with a giggle, distracted by Izabel who had resumed tickling her with her tongue. 

“My lady,” stammered the hapless captain. He had gone to lurk behind the lower post on his side of the bed in a feeble attempt to spare her the sight of his straining erection. 

She crossed the room to him, still the picture of noble grace and dignity even with all her flesh exposed. The menage carried one beside them as she reached out to her loyal captain with gentle words. 

“I’m sorry, Urtario. I know this must be shocking. I had not intended for you to see me like this.” 

“Er, likewise, my Lady. I can explain…” 

“There’s no need. Vreetla has been telling me everything that’s happened. And what she hasn’t told me yet, I can surmise. And here, like this, you can call me Lydia.” 

“Lydia…” he said, as though trying out the word for the very first time. “I’ve never called you that before. It feels… forbidden.” 

She reached out and let her graceful fingers caress his lean, well-muscled flank. “Does it feel more forbidden than this?” 

Her touch made him draw breath in a rush. “My Lady…” 

“If you’re going to keep calling me your Lady, then I’m going to offer you the privilege of having me be your lady in a more literal sense, tonight.” 

Urtario felt like he had been running, for how hard he found it to breathe. “It’s different than doing… this,” he nodded to the happy trio beside them. “I owe fealty to you. I’ve sworn an oath. To you; to your _husband…”_

“My husband… Wardan was a good man, but I was never attracted to him. I was faithful and never denied him, but intimacy with him was hard. So when I would do my duty, I had to think of someone. Before them…” she indicated the trio as well, “…there was only you here, who fit the image of someone I could deserve. So I thought about you. I was ashamed at the time, of course. But much has changed and I’m not ashamed anymore. And since we are revealing so much to each other here…” 

She glanced downward to indicate their aroused bodies. 

“…I figured you may as well know.” 

“We can’t…” he said, even as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. 

Vreetla, now in a steady rhythm of riding Izabel’s mouth, mischievously called out, “His tongue’s been in my ass!” 

“Oh, shut up, Vreetla!” Lydia groused. She turned her back to Urtario and lifted her hands above her head. “Will you help me, loyal captain?” 

Urtario gathered up the hem of her sheer gown and lifted it up her body and over her head. She leaned back against him, her head upon his chest and guided his hands to her abdomen. Instinct took over from there and he lifted and squeezed her pale, blue-veined breasts. Her hard, pink nipples emerged between his fingers where they were pleasingly kneaded. His engorged cock poked between her gluteal cleft and she reached for it, giving him something of an awkward handjob as he leaned in to kiss her neck. His kisses were feather light and gentle: animal lust restrained by a thin leash of courtship. 

Lydia thought she could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Despite the suboptimal handjob, his cock was already leaking fluid and it occasionally twitched in her soft, skillful hand. 

“You and I shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured ruefully while making absolutely no effort to stop. 

With one final impish kiss to his lips she whispered, “Then I guess you’d better fuck me fast, before we come to our senses.” 

Lydia then climbed onto the bed, lying on her back for her valiant soldier. Urtario climbed between her open legs. They did their best to ignore the massive wet spot left by the earlier festivities. He placed himself at his noble lady’s hairless snatch but hesitated to enter. He was, after all, hers to command, and dared not act until he was ordered. Like a damsel bestowing a token of her favor upon a jousting knight, Lydia wrapped fingers around his shaft and guided him inside her. 

There was no hesitation as there had been with Vreetla. He was _inside_ his Baroness: the ultimate taboo for an oathsworn retainer like him, and that served as aphrodisiac enough. It both brought out virility he’d normally not dare show without prompting, and elicited confessions he could not believe he heard himself share. 

“Lydia, this is just what I’ve always wanted! Since the first day I saw you!” he gasped as he exerted himself into her. “You feel just like I always imagined you would!” 

“I can say the same… about you!” she responded between his surging, skillful thrusts. 

The sheer excitement of such a forbidden liaison was enough to quickly bring her to orgasm. She reached that pinnacle just as a chorus of cries from the writhing triad beside her informed her that Vreetla and Izabel were cumming too. It seemed men had a natural tendency to spend themselves in response to such a simultaneous release of female sexual energy and Urtario was no exception. This time he knew he absolutely must pull out. But how could he when this was his darkest and most coveted fantasy? He could he when in her ecstasy she was crying out, _“Cum for me, Urtario! Give it to me!_

And so he filled her: she whom he had so loyally served since the day she’d set foot in his life. Urtario watched in amazement as the base of his cock pulsed, filling the noble Baroness Nyssanan with his lowborn seed. 

Lowborn. That was the problem. And it rushed into his mind like a darkening stormfront as the pleasure of what they had done subsided and reality set back in. 

Vreetla and Matrax settled into snuggling together with Izabel between them. She was lower down on the bed, resting her tousled head of long red hair about Vreetla’s belly. 

Lydia tried to assume a similar cozy posture with the captain of her guard, but his troubled thoughts were writ upon his face. 

“I hope you’re not going to start in again with how we shouldn’t have done this,” she teased. “Because I’m really not in the mood.” 

“It’s very risky,” he admitted. “We can’t afford to have me get you pregnant.” 

“You didn’t get me pregnant, Urtario. Don’t worry about.” 

“I know that there are ways for women to minimize the risks. And I’m certain that you know your business. But it’s always still possible. You can never be absolutely sure.” 

“I’m absolutely sure. Don’t worry about it.” 

“You might be absolutely sure, and I want to be along with you. But – and forgive me for being so crass – but the only time you can be absolutely sure that you haven’t gotten a woman pregnant is if someone else already has.” 

Lydia nudged his thigh with her knee and cleared her throat in warning. But in Vreetla’s half-drowsing state the exchange caught her off guard and her head snapped their way. Izabel raised her head and looked as well, then looked up at Vreetla, questioningly. The latter failed to wipe her expression neutral in time and Izabel now looked questioningly toward Matrax, slowly putting the pieces together. Watching her behavior, Urtario began to understand too. Soon all eyes were coming to rest upon Matrax. Except for Lydia, who sighed in exasperation and slapped her hand over her eyes. 

Matrax gawked back at them all as he, too, began to understand. 

“Wait… _What!?”_

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
